


Blue and Yellow

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You met him roughly six years ago and at the time all you could say was, Shit you’re Bert McCracken!” and flail your chubby arms in a retarded wave (one that led Mikey to later say, half snorting, “really Gee? Do you possess no social skills??”) And turn bright red when he laughed at you.<br/>You like to think your relationship has improved since then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue and Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: fake, so obviously fake^_^

Encircle me,  
I need to be,  
taken down.  
~Tegan &Sara

You met him roughly six years ago and at the time all you could say was, Shit you’re Bert McCracken!” and flail your (and okay, you’ve got to just fucking admit it) chubby arms in a retarded wave (one that led Mikey to later say, half snorting, “really Gee? Do you possess no social skills??”) And turn bright red when he laughed at you.

You like to think that your relationship has improved since then.

Now, you are friends, and yeah, you’re not quite sure how you managed to swing that one, but you really have nothing else to call it when he starts hanging out around your tour bus, and eating your food and trying to steal coffee from both you and your little brother.

It’s also around the time this revelation comes, that another begins to spin in that weirdly shaped brain of yours; you’re attracted to him. And yeah, you’ve always thought he was cute because he is, in a totally unwashed-constantly-drunk-or-hung-over way, but now it’s getting to the point that you are starting to get a little more of a crush because fuck it, he’s kind of awesome and naïve a bit but in a totally fucked up way.

It’s been roughly five and a half years, so you’ve been fucked for a very long time.

This though, this is kind of unfair in so many ways because yeah, you get it, Bert has no concept of personal space, but this is a little ridiculous, even for him.

He’s mostly on top of your body that’s currently curved a little with your back on the wall at an angle, and he doesn’t have a shirt on (although, it must be said that you can’t exactly remember when It came off) and so you can feel his heat on you. Also his hand is under your shirt, all the way up by your heart and he’s not going to move because he’s Bert and he sleeps like the fucking dead.

You wish you could actually be mad about this.

But you can’t because about 4 years ago you realized that you were actually madly in love with the guy and since then it has all been pretty much a rapid cliff fall (50 ft. drop) and an uphill battle to deny him anything. This was to blame for him being here, asleep and curled around you like a child anyways because you should have known better-did know better- than to let him hang out in your bunk past midnight when he hadn’t slept in a week. Now you have fucking kryptonite sleeping in your bed, skin touching yours as he moves his hand on your chest a little, finger sliding far under the hem, the other one that had been under him now curled around your waist effectively pressing the two of you tighter on your itty bitty bunk.

You just hope to god that he hasn’t suddenly developed a sleeping beauty complex since the last time you and he slept in the same space.

“Ger-ard.” You hear him mumble, sleep heavy in his voice still so you know he’s still deep in and you want to shake him awake ask him why he’s dreaming of you and what it means but you are afraid and it’s impossible to wake Bert up ever anyways so you decide to not even try. But then he’s says it again, more firmly, “Ger-ard” and he’s squirming against you, a little moan escaping his lips.

What the fuck is he dreaming about?

You are just about to jerk him awake and ask (really, you are, cowardice be damned!) when he gives one last shudder up against you and his eyes open.

Well fuck.

“Gee?”

“Uhh, hi.” And you’re a dork, a HUGE fucking dork, but at least he’s pretty much immune to it by now, or maybe it’s just too damn early and all he does is give you a blurry look and smile and say “coffee?”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Later, after you both fumble off your bunk (waking up Bob and Frank, and Mikey who by association wakes Pete who had apparently stayed over last night and came stumbling out of mikey’s bunk half naked and with bright red hickeys-thank you Mikey for making you want to claw out your eyes) and found the most beautiful Starbucks van ever.

“What time are you playing?” You ask him, shading a hand across your eyes to shield from the too fucking bright sun, and taking a sip of coffee.

“Umm, an hour or two, you?”

“An hour. Wanna watch?” you pointedly don’t look at him. And you tell yourself you don’t really, really want him to say yes, but you still get inordinately happy when he nods, and you have to hold your grin a little.

You guys find a shady spot under trees near the stage that you are playing soon, and when you’re both settled down, after discarding what is probably your 5th consecutive cigarettes and taking another gulp of your second cup of coffee, one third of the way gone already; You guys begin having one of these conversations that you never wanted to have with anyone. Ever.

“So your brother’s a biter huh? “

“Oh god, can we not be talking about this? Like I don’t want to know.”

He just smiles at you, lighting another cigarette, and taking a slow drag before passing it to you, “What? It’s not like you didn’t know your brother was having sex.”

“yeah, but there is a difference between knowing he’s “having sex” and seeing the results of him fucking Pete Wentz in the bunk next to mine.” You shudder at the thought, so fucking weird.

“So it’s not even Pete?”

“Is that your weird ass way of asking me if I approve of Pete fucking my brother?” You wonder out loud, “Because I don’t care either way really.” And you don’t, because Mikey is a grown man (ish) and Pete Wentz is fucking annoying sometimes, and he’s too loud, and he really does need to learn to wear underwear even if it is tour, but Frankie’s kind of made him immune to all these this (except probably the underwear thing) and he makes Mikey smile.

Bert snorts, “but if he hurts him, you’ll fucking break his legs.”

“Well, yeah.” You grin, because he’s your brother, and what’s more, he’s Mikey, so it’s a no fucking brainer. And you just grin at each other because, you both know.

“Fuck, “he says, looking up from his phone only a second later, when the quiet is still comfortable, “You should probably get to your bus; you have like, 45 minutes.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You mumble, distracted by the way light bounces off his face, because he really is pretty, and fuck, his eyes. You want to lose yourself in them, and find yourself in them, and all those fucking clichés that you’ve really always thought you were better than. You get up just so you can stop staring at him, just so he doesn’t notice.  
He walks you to your bus, sits on your bunk while you put on your makeup and makes odd little comments about everything from the weather (fuck I hope it doesn’t rain again) to your brother’s sex life (seriously, who do you think tops?) It’s nice to listen to you realize, you like having him there, close to you.

You have a truly fucking awesome show.

He walks you to the stage, sticks around as promised, and you can feel him there the whole performance, can feel yourself wanting to watch him watch you. The energy from the fans is crazy and loud and insane and you can feel yourself start to feed off it. You can feel yourself feed off the adrenaline surge you get from the knowledge that he’s watching you. When you go to kiss frank, smiling as you hear the crazy roar of approvals, when you sing to Mikey, a hand dipping a little under the lining of his MikeyFuckingWay shirt, fingers curling around his neck, you can feel Bert watching you, eyes burning holes through you, and you can barely concentrate enough to wonder why the fuck he cares.

When you finally stumble off the stage, he’s waiting for you though, and somehow you find yourself back under that tree with him. He’s not looking at you when you finally give into the temptation to look at him, and you aren’t quite sure how you feel about that, but you can’t focus because again, you’re getting distracted by the way the lights from whoevers tour bus is parked nearby is shadowing across his face; making his eyes look bizarre. You know todays different than the others, but you can’t tell why, and mostly you’re just waiting for him to say something.  
A quiet Bert worries you.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, after ten minutes of neither of you speaking, and neither of you moving, so you know this silence isn’t comfortable.

“Gee” you hear him say, and you risk looking at him because, fuck, it’s Bert and you’re fucking weak.

He’s staring now, in sharp contrast to the way he was just avoiding your gaze, and its pulling you in, and in, and in more, because again, fuck, his face. You’ve seen this face before and you recognize it even before he’s moving closer, shuffling into your space. You’ve seen it directed to his girlfriend, and his boyfriends and you know it most from when he and that guy from the tour crew were dating. You remember how shocked you were when you heard Bert say that word, dating, not fucking, or friends with benefits, but real honest to fucking god, dating.

“Bert?”

And you can’t breathe suddenly because he’s like, this fucking close and leaning over you, and you’ve wanted this for a really fucking long time. “You’re so pretty Gee.” And well fuck you sideways, because you’re about 95% sure Bert’s not even drunk right now or high and he thinks you’re pretty. You can’t even be mad that he’s just about said you look like a girl. “Can i kiss you Gee? Please?” And you are only human, and he’s so close.

You kiss him first, just a light but intense lip lock, and fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuckitty fuck.

He’s warm and solid against you as soon as you both pull away, and you can only imagine the look on your face right now because you just kissed Bert fucking McCracken.

It’s only a second before he pulls you back in and smiling one of those inherently Bert smiles, he kisses you again, only this time it’s totally different. Both your mouths are open for one, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, dominating the kiss easily. Its turns slow and dirty fast and fuck, its good. You moan a little under his mouth, a little more when his hand curves around your neck to pull you closer, his fingers running to and fro across your skin there, dipping up into your black hair.

“Fuck Bert.” You whisper a little breathless and you can feel your cheeks heat up, can feel him notice and smile and,  
“Yeah, we could do that.”

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me happy, and earn you a cookie shaped like Gerard Way's head^_^


End file.
